


[Untitled:]_6

by Deadman



Series: [Untitled:]_ [6]
Category: [Untitled:]_
Genre: Infected, Original Fiction, Original Universe, Undead, Zombie Apocalypse, Zombies, original - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-27
Updated: 2014-08-27
Packaged: 2018-02-15 01:22:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2210376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deadman/pseuds/Deadman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The sixth installment of the [Untitled:]_ series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	[Untitled:]_6

**Author's Note:**

> This installment was written several months after installment number five. Any changes in the flow/writing style are due to that.

Everything was dark. Rick awoke to such a pitch black void that he brought his hands up to rub at his eyes, hoping that the world would be full of color and light when he looked around again, and becoming entirely disappointed when that was not the case, “I need to stop passing out,” He sighed into the dark, more concerned with the lack of light than with the circumstances that brought him here. “Because this is getting real old, real fast-”

 

Light flashed behind him, interrupted his train of thought, and had him turning around with an amount of relief that was matched only by the horror that replaced it when his augmented eyes focused on the source of the blue-white glow that had caught his attention --two horizontal, sporadically flickering and spiking lines that lazily hummed a few yards away; two audio lines that the Corporal could never forget, even now, when they lacked the frantic and extreme upward and downward spikes that marked Thor’s angered, maddening laughter.

 

The terrifying familiarity had Rick taking a step back, and when the set of lines rose, then fell and rippled as he almost heard a soft ‘oof’ sound behind them, the soldier found himself backing away, patting down his back and legs in a panicked search for some kind of weapon but finding only a door, pressed to his back and halting his retreat.

 

The few seconds it took the two lines to reach him felt like hours to the sniper, and had he not taken a moment to really look at them, he would’ve driven himself into cardiac arrest once their sluggish pace brought the set of lights right up to his stomach, “W-wait, please-....not like-....wait.”

 

His stomach.

 

Rick had suffered through enough run-ins with a particular level One infected to know that the murderous lord of thunder and lightning was at least eye level with him, if not taller, which was the first realization to put the man at relative ease. The second followed the tired sigh that left whoever it was that was standing in front of him, and how the pair of lights slowly moved forward and stopped against the door with a soft clank.

 

They’d passed right through him.

 

Before he could even begin to ponder his place in the universe, which he would have, the sharpshooter was distracted by a flashing green light to his left; each of the six flashes of emerald were accentuated by a soft tone, pressed in a rhythm that not only seemed practiced, but coaxed a quiet, satisfied chuckle from the being that was currently merged with Rick’s torso and had the blue lines spiking in response.  
  
With what sounded like a gust of wind, the metallic doors slid open and released a wave of light that nearly overloaded the sensors in Rick’s eyes and left him stumbling backwards, peering through the spaces between his fingers to watch a dark silhouette march forward, however lazily, into the light and disappear into the overwhelming brightness.

“Well,” Rick sighed, having followed the stranger into the light. “Either my luck held out, and I’m just hallucinating, or I am dead, and heaven just sucks.”

 

He stood with his hands on his hips, overlooking what seemed like a personalized briefing room; It was bigger than any he’d been in --taller, too-- but still had the basic feel. There was a table, though this one was long enough to be fit for a banquet, and where there should have been a monitor mounted on the wall opposite the main doors, there was a screen that took up the entire wall, instead.

 

Adding to the ‘better-than-you’ feel Rick was getting from the place, there wasn’t a single door, but several, all around the room and numbered. The Corporal and his mysterious escort had entered through one such room, numbered ‘O-8’.

 

Once the layout of the room was archived, cybernetic eyes fell on the gathered individuals sitting at the table as Rick watched a peculiar scene unfold.

 

At the head of the table, sitting to the left of the head chair with hands clasped behind his head and his combat boots on the table, was a man of significant height and build. He seemed relaxed, but the way his facial features were blurred kept Rick from discerning his mood for sure, though the amusement with which he spoke made it a fair assumption, “T’ch, look who’s up.”

 

There were a number of things that were odd about this, but the fact that this man was surrounded by a number of large canines was one of the most prominent things.

 

Five Corporation DireWolves lay scattered around the man’s chair, with one resting its head on his lap, and a Corporation ScoutHound sat on his shoulder, suddenly perking up and looking in Rick’s direction with erect ears and eager eyes.

 

Tracing the small dog’s gaze, the Corporal discovered that, thankfully, the hound was focused on the individual he’d entered with, and not himself --this was also when Rick noticed that the being he’d nearly given himself a stroke over was about the size of a teenager and wore an eerily familiar contraption on his head, with a visor covering his face from his nose up and several ports along the rear edge of the device.

 

The young man trudged over to a chair and dropped into the seat, which prompted the pack of DireWolves to trot over to him and gather around, looking up at him expectantly and whining in anticipation. while the smallest of their group left its perch on their master’s shoulder and galloped across the table, sliding to a halt across from the young soldier and proceeding to whine as well, stamping in place and wagging its tail furiously.

 

The youngster sat there, completely still and silent, until the smallest canine craned its next forward and let out a soft howl, finally stealing a smile and a, “Morning, guys.” from the seated soldier.

With their presence finally recognized, the pack of hounds practically assaulted the youngest soldier Rick had ever seen, with the little ScoutHound delivering the finishing blow with a triumphant howl and a flying leap.

 

“Okay, that was awesome.”

 

“Wasn’t it? They’re so adorable.”

 

Two new voices drew Rick’s attention to the seats opposite the ongoing assault, where two more soldiers sat right next to each other, obviously sharing in their amusement at the young one’s expense.

 

The one on the left’s features were blurred as well, but judging by their height and build, as well as their voice, it was safe to assume that they were a man, while the one on the right appeared to be a woman by the same criteria. She, however, had a face.

 

The Corporal could make out her every feature as clear as day; her rounded facial features seemed to glow, her electric blue eyes were nearly luminescent, and the way brunette curls framed her face was a nearly frightening contrast to the blank slate that was every other face Rick hadn’t seen so far, but the marksman could think on that later. Right now, he couldn’t help but smile himself, watching the way this woman laughed and pointed at the mass of canine and laughing teen, or how she clutched the arm of the man next to her, who was chuckling insanely quietly and gripping his stomach, as if to make sure he kept his eyes on the scene in front of them.

 

Another rush of air demanded his attention, and when Rick looked to the source of the noise, he was met with another pair of soldiers. Two women, this time; one with a face, and one without.

 

They were almost the same height, with the shorter of the two being slightly curvier than the other, something that didn’t keep them from having the same sort of sway to their step as they walked into the room, each carrying two plates of food on each arm and humming a different part of the same tune.

 

The pair had entered through the main doors, and while they were still opened, the man who’d been lounging at the head of the table brought his feet down and sat straight before whistling to the pack of dogs currently ravaging the youngest member of the squad, nodding to the door and issuing a quick order, “Alright. Go tell them to come down. Food’s done.”

 

Without missing a beat, the group of six warhounds sprang to their feet and darted out the door and down the hall, weaving between and around the two women on the way out.

 

“Oi! They coulda knocked us over, asshat!”

“He was just giving you some much needed dexterity training, sis.”

 

The shorter of the two, the one with the face, glared back at the other, and Rick noticed how her features were just as radiantly clear as the woman who was sitting down; how her olive skin had a nearly bronze shine to it and her eyes were a darker blue but still held the same light, how ebon strands of hair nearly flowed in the still air and how the attitude in her voice spilled into her playful smirk as she barked back at her sister, “Just give your hubby his food, pendeja.”

 

“Yes ma’am~” The other, the one with the more athletic build, practically purred, sauntering to the end of the table and placing two plates in front of empty chairs before dropping the last two in front of the man who’d ordered the dogs and settling herself down on his lap.

 

Due to their lack of faces, Rick couldn’t tell exactly what they did, but judging by the shorter sister’s disgusted reaction and the overdramatic “Aww~” that the seated woman practically shouted, he could make an educated guess.

 

“Damn, Allister. You see that?”

 

“I sure did! What the fuck, man! I thought I was your one and only!”

 

Two more voices, one new and the other all too familiar in the strangest of ways, had the observing marksman wheeling around and pausing in fear and utter confusion.

 

Two men walked into the room. One lacked any distinguishable features, but he wore a coat Rick knew to be given to only the highest ranking officers of the Corporation, and he wore a sword at his side. That, coupled with his muscular, lithe build told the sniper all he needed to know about him as far as his military standing and combat preference were concerned.

 

The man on the right was someone Rick had met before, and like the others, his features were clearer than most fond memories; the blue of his eyes, possibly the brightest so far, burned in stark contrast to his dark skin, which had a bronze glow of its own, and his smile and laugh seemed to echo in sight and sound.

 

He too, wore an officer’s coat, which made sense considering the rank Rick knew he held. The thing that didn’t make sense, considering his demeanor when they’d last met, was the way Omega Captain nearly keeled over on himself as he laughed, waving a hand at the man he’d teased, as if to let him know his words were to be made light of.

 

“What happened to you?...” Rick whispered, watching the two officers walk into the room, followed by the dogs sent to fetch them, as everyone present burst into the kind of hearty laughter you could only expect to hear from gathered brothers and sisters in arms.

 

Once the two newcomers were seated at the head of the table --after a rousing game of rock, paper, scissors to determine who sat in the center chair-- and the DW’s were settled around the room, Omega Captain turned to the man seated to his left, “You know, there are easier ways to tell us dinner’s ready than sending the hounds to attack.”

 

“True, but you two won’t stop sparring otherwise.”

 

“He’s got a point, brother.”

 

“I know he does,” The blue-eyed Captain tried not to laugh, giving the other officer a light shove, “That doesn’t mean I gotta like it-...This fucker.”

 

Reaching below the table, the super soldier retrieved the ScoutHound who’d been sitting at his feet, holding the dog by the scruff of its neck and watching as it hung there with its tail wagging to and fro, “This guy latched onto my wrist mid punch. His ball are gonna get him hurt one day.”

 

His scolding earned an excited howl in response, and Rick watched in wonder as the soldier who’d knocked him out with his sheer presence proceeded to wince as if he were in pain, before putting the dog down with a quick, “Shut up.”

 

To his right, the officer with a blade tossed his head back and laughed, giving Omega Captain’s shoulder a reassuring pat, “If anything, his bravery might save your stubborn self one day.”

 

“Hey man, I’m not some damsel in distress. I know when to-”

 

“You tryin’ to say somethin’ about women?!” The olive-skinned woman interjected from down the table, much to the Captain’s disdain.

 

“I’m sayin’ I’m not some bitc-”

 

Again, he was interrupted. This time, by the woman with the rounded features. “Just ignore him. He’s probably mad ‘cause Vincent was on the winning side of their tie today.”

 

“Not true. We give credit where it’s due.” The officer called Vincent chimed in, instinctively lifting his hand and curling his fingers into a fist, which was promptly struck by the Captain’s knuckles.

 

“Damn straight. Good fight, Vince.”

 

“Same to you.”

 

“Well, that’s good,” The woman with the mouth spoke up again, “Guess that means I’ll get all the credit I deserve when I kick the Captain’s black ass~”

 

Before Allister could offer a rebuttal, a choking sound brought his attention to the man on his left, and soon gave way to an unimpressed sort of laughter. “Like you could, short stack!”

 

The remark earned a light pap from the woman sitting on the wolfman’s lap, and an outburst from her sister, “Oi! You shut up, Mark! I’d kick your ass too, if my sister wasn’t head over heels for you!”

 

“Oh- Riella-” Mark nearly stood up, but was suddenly made busy by the sister in question. An effective tactic, Rick notes.

 

Omega Captain, however, had no such restraints, and it was as if he completed Mark’s thought and gesture for him, abruptly standing up and laughing a challenge, “Oh yeah?!”

 

“Yeah-...!” The petite, curved woman stood up as well, but her courage faltered when she realized how much taller the Captain was, and she looked to the unoccupied woman for backup. “Uhh….Bh-Bhlue, you’ll help me, right?”

 

“Nope.” Was the response, as the woman in question casually sipped at her drink. “My work as instigator is done here.” Leaning back, she elbowed the man next to her in the ribs, getting what had to have been some sort of look in return. “I’ll just sit with my brother….watch you get your ass kicked.”

 

The man next to her nodded.

 

“Rhed, you’re an ass. Uhh…..Antoine?”

 

The youngest of them, who was still in the process in waking up, looked up at her and ran a hand through the blond spikes of hair at the back of his head, not bothering to remove the piece of hardware that hid most of his face. “Andrra, that’s my brother. So-” He stopped to yawn, finally sounding nearly awake. “Sit down ‘fore I get ta’ swingin’.”

 

The bickering went on, seemingly void of any real threats --as if this was all just part of the routine-- and Rick took the time to commit every name to memory, making sure to match a face or body to each one.

 

Allister...Vincent...Mark...Riella...Andrra...Rhed...Bhlue...Antoine…

  
There was a golden flicker, and an unnerving, smiling face appeared on the glass wall behind Allister’s seat, followed by an equally and eerily friendly voice that Rick could recognize anywhere, “Good evening, Omega! Chairman Zeta here!”” 


End file.
